


Dancing With Your Ghost

by Alex -Protecc bottoms- simpDenki (Hallettatme)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, F/M, Love, Oral Sex, Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Penetration, Vaginal Sex, but not really, i dont want to give it all away with tags, major character death kinda, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:54:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27158929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hallettatme/pseuds/Alex%20-Protecc%20bottoms-%20simpDenki
Summary: You are working at a new hospital when you meet a young handsome Sergeant, Nishinoya Yuu.How you fall in love with him, and where will the relationship lead?Yato October Writing eventAlex (protecc Bottoms) simpDenki formerly known as Ainsley SIMPS Denki (Noya UwU)
Relationships: Nishinoya Yuu/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24
Collections: Yagami Yato Fanfic Event: October 2020





	Dancing With Your Ghost

You have been working at the Iwate prefecture Ichinohe Hospital for a few months when you first see him. He can’t be more than 5’5”, but he stands straight and proud in his crisp dress uniform.

He was walking in the opposite direction of you, hat in his hand, a piece of strange blonde hair in the middle of his forehead, and if you hadn’t been running to the room of a coding patient, you would have stopped just to see more of the intense brown eyes that met yours.

It had been weeks since you had first seen him, but even so, you had often found that flashes of his intense gaze would flit across the backs of your eyelids. You thought you saw a flash of his strange hair around a corner, but any time you tried to get a closer look, there was no one there.

It was a relief when you finally saw him again for real. It was nearing the end of visiting hours, and he was ambling down the hall, the same direction you were going. He had the hat from his dress uniform tucked under his arm, and the way he was holding himself made him look tired.

You hurry a little to catch up to him and tap him on the shoulder. He spun to look at you, eyes wide and dropped his hat in his surprise. You introduce yourself to him, matching his stride so that you are keeping pace with him.

“Santo Rikuso Nishinoya Yuu.” He says stopping walking momentarily and stooping to pick up his hat. He stands straight once more and hold out his hand for you to shake. You grasp his hand firmly in yours, an almost electric tingle running across your skin.

You tilt your head and bite your lip a bit in confusion because his hand is cold. You consider asking him if he is seeing someone for his poor circulation but decide that maybe he is just chilly. It is always pretty cold in the hospital, to help keep bacteria from growing.

Besides, the handsome Sergeant in front of you isn’t here for unwanted medical advice. “Here to visit a loved one?” You ask after letting go.

He cuts his eyes toward you after turning to begin walking again, “Something like that.” He grins widely and you feel your heart flutter against your ribs. You place your hands in the pockets of your scrubs as you stride along beside him.

The silence that falls is awkward, and you know that you should walk away instead of meandering further from your assigned ward, but for reasons you can’t seem to explain, you want just a few more moments with this man.

Your pager goes off, and you look at it, mildly irritated, to read the code on it. A patient is needing you. You blow a tendril of hair that has escaped your ponytail off of your forehead and turn to walk the other direction.

“See you around Nishinoya.” You throw brightly over your shoulder, and with a slight wave, you speed walk to the room.

Its been another couple of weeks, you have seen him a few times, waved at him, tossed a smile in his direction, but you are always too busy running to take care of a patient who has pressed the call button, or help with a code.

Today though, when you were filling out paperwork at the main nurse’s station, he had marched right up to you, and asked when your lunch was. You blinked owlishly up at him for a moment, and then told him that it was at 8:00 PM.

So here you are, waiting in the atrium of the elevator banks, and looking at the time on your phone. You jump as you hear him call your name behind you. “Good job. You are the picture of nonchalance” You think, as you fumble for your phone, to keep from dropping it.

“Santo Rikuso.” You say in your most serious tone of voice. The side of your mouth twitching upward slightly as you plant your feet together, stand up straight, and salute him.

He looks at you oddly for a beat, and then he is grasping his stomach, howling with laughter. You drop your hand, and instead fidget with the hem of your scrub top. Your eyes are wandering from side to side. His laugh is exuberant and contagious, but very loud for a place of healing.

You continue to fidget and look around so that you will be able to see if someone comes to check out what all the noise is. He slowly cackles himself into those silent asthmatic sounding giggles that have you concerned that you are going to need to get him an oxygen mask.

His hysteria finally dies down, and he looks up at you, hands on his knees, still bent over. “It wasn’t _THAT_ funny.” You mumble incredulously, unable to stop the smile that is still flirting with the idea of breaking out across your face.

The two of you board the elevator, and he begins to bombard you with questions. Your favorite color? Your favorite food? What do you do for fun? What is your family like?

Question after question is fired at you, to the point where, when you finally get down to the first floor, and finally enter the cafeteria, you are feeling bad for monopolizing the conversation.

You place a hand on his arm, and even through the arm of his uniform, you can feel that same undercurrent of electric tension. “Nishinoya. Breathe, tell me about you.” You say before grabbing a tray and making your way through the service line.

“Well,” He says bouncing slightly in excitement as he walks beside you down the line. “I love soda flavored popsicles.” He starts slowly, grabbing a muffin from the basket by the register. You turn away and start walking to a table while he pays.

He jogs to catch back up to you. “Like the Cola flavored ones. Not orange or grape.” The two of you take a seat at a table by the long wall of windows on the south side of the cafeteria.

“What else?” You say through a bite of the sandwich you picked up. You realize what you did, and cover your mouth with your hand, chewing and swallowing quickly. “Sorry. Tell me something else about you, Please?”

You watch as he picks at his muffin for a moment, trying to think about what to tell you. “I played Volleyball all through high school. I really loved it and was sad when I had to quit playing when I joined the military.”

“Volleyball?” You manage to choke out in surprise. You eye the solid muscles that shift beneath the jacket of his uniform, muscles you know can’t be from 5-6-year-old volleyball practices and try to imagine him with the leaner muscles of a volleyball player.

“Yeah, I was a libero…umm I made sure the ball didn’t hit the ground.” He smiles widely. “I can see why you would be surprised.” He says gesturing at all of himself.

“No!” You ask quickly “That isn’t what I meant at all!”

He is laughing again, and you can’t help but to smile. That smile turns into a laugh, and like that, the little bit of tension that had built up was broke.

“Tell me one more thing.” You ask him after the two of you are able to calm down.

Your eyes are locked on his face as he considers. “I…” He says pausing for dramatic effect. “am terrified of moths.”

Your jaw drops open, and a, frankly, unattractive snort escapes you. “Come on. Something real.” You say to him laughingly.

“That is real!” he says loudly waving his arms about. He goes on to tell your all about how he became absolutely horrified of moths. Complete with sound effects.

It seems like no time at all until the alarm you had set on your phone to denote the end of your lunch is going off. The two of you stand, and he walks you back to the elevators.

A few weeks later, the two of you have met for coffee in the cafeteria two more times. The conversation flows easily when the two of you are together.

His infectious good cheer always managing to make even the most awful days a little brighter. You talk about him constantly with your co-workers, who are just DYING to meet him, but the two of you never seem to be able to have enough time in your schedules for him to stop by the nurses station.

You don’t REALLY mind all that much though because you would rather spend what little time you have together alone, getting better acquainted with each other.

The two of you are meeting for your lunch again, when you finally think to ask him why his schedule is so tight.

“Are you married?” You blurt out while he picks at yet another muffin.

He looks at you like you have absolutely lost your mind. “Why would you think that I am married?” He asks you, a look of complete incredulity on his face at the mere idea of it. “Do you really think I’m the kind of guy who would be spending all of this time with you if I were married?”

You shrug, trying for nonchalance. “You never know anymore.” You say eyes avoiding his as your cheeks heat up.

He waves his ringless hand in front of your face, pointing with the other hand, “Not even a tan line doll face.” He is smiling softly at you, as he says this.

You let out an overexaggerated relieved breath. “Well, you got me there.” You chuckle at your own ridiculousness, and Nishinoya reaches out to touch your hand. It’s the first time the two of you have touched since that first cafeteria date.

“Were you really worried about that?” He looks at you, eyes wide with surprise. “Why were you so worried about something like that?”

You fidget in your seat, eyes down at the table. Had you been reading the situation wrong? Were the two of you not getting to know one another in a romantic capacity? Why had you not thought to clarify that before now?

You blush brightly, still wringing your hands in your lap, biting your lip as you try to think of something to say to him. “Because I really like you.” You mumble to him. You are looking up through your lashes at him, your head still lowered in embarrassment.

You stand abruptly from the table. “I’ve got to get back to work.” You say, turning and darting for the door to the cafeteria, leaving the duo-toned haired man gaping after you at the table, hand still extended to where you had previously been.

“WAIT!” you hear him shout from behind you as you are catching your breath in front of the elevator doors. You hear him call your name, and the sound of his heavy boots striking the tile of the hallway as he runs after you.

You press the up button on the elevator again, jamming your thumb into it over and over, and begging it to hurry up.

Then you feel a hand on your wrist, tugging to spin you around, and you are facing the panting man. He doesn’t even take the time to catch his breath before you feel cool lips pressed to yours. There is a hand on your low back, and another touching your face, thumb stroking along your cheekbone.

You stand frozen for a minute, absolutely shocked at this turn of events, but then your eyes are fluttering closed, your lips are moving against his, and that same electric current from before is running over what feels like your entire body.

You break apart after what feels like far too little time to you. He is particularly winded due to the whole running and immediately kissing you think. Your eyes open slowly as the two of you continue to share air, bodies pressed so close together that you can feel his breath ruffling your eyelashes.

The two of you spend the rest of your break, locked in each other’s arms in an alcove by the front doors of the hospital, chatting and kissing until the alarm goes off once more.

You fondly call him Noya when speaking to him and of him from that day on. Yuu still feels to intimate. You have not put a label on what you are to one another, but you are happy and comfortable with the way things are.

Stolen kisses when you meet, playing footsie or holding hands at what you have come to think of as “your table” in the caf. You don’t text or call each other, but you don’t even find that weird really because he always shows up right on time, every night, for the two of you to have lunch together.

You do ask him for his number once, but he just tells you that he doesn’t have a cell phone, though he seems oddly delighted by yours when you allow him to play with it one night.

The two of you have been, whatever you are for about three months on the night that losing a patient hits you particularly hard.

When he sees the look on your face, instead of pulling you, bouncing all the way, to the cafeteria, he takes you to an empty patient room. The two of you stand in the dark with his arms around you, one hand on the back of your head as you cry.

He tells you about losing some of the guys in his unit during combat. How his heart still aches at the memory, and that the hospital is kind of like a battleground. This is surprisingly comforting to you, and you thank him profusely, nuzzling your face into the shoulder of his usual dress uniform.

He tilts your face up to look at him and kisses a tear from the corner of your eye. “Please smile for me doll face.” He says, the tone of his voice so much lower than usual.

You give him a small trembling smile, and press a soft kiss to his lips, backing him against the wall as you do so. You run a hand up his side, under the jacket of his uniform.

Your mouths open to one another, and the kiss deepens, as he wraps his arm fully around you so that his forearm rests against your low back, the fingers of his other hand buried in the pulled up hair at the base of your skull.

Your lips part from one another, and you are breathing hard. Your pupils are blown wide with lust, and you pull him toward the bed that is against the center of the wall in the small room. A hospital bed isn’t the best place for your first time with one another, but you want him to make you feel something good again.

You sit on the edge of the bed, and he stands in between your legs. You kiss down his neck to the collar of his jacket, and then nip and kiss your way back up to his lips as you reach to begin unbuttoning the jacket.

His hands grab yours, and he pulls back to look in your eyes. His eyes are blown wide with lust, and you are confused by the show of restraint in this moment. He is still searching your eyes for any hesitance, “Are you sure?”

You nod dumbly, and then try to find your voice. “I’m 100% sure that I want you Yuu.” You say, your words thick through the haze of wanting him. You turn your wrists in his grip, and grasp his hands, pulling them to cup your breasts through your scrub top, eyes on his the whole time.

He dives back in to kiss you, plundering the moist cavern of your mouth with his tongue, and kneading one of your breasts. You wrap your legs around his waist, and arch up into him, moaning into his mouth. Your fingers return to working the buttons of his jacket, and when you finish, he stops his attentions to your breasts long enough for you to help him to shrug out of it.

Taut muscles strain the fabric of the button up shirt beneath the coat. You run your hands over his chest, feeling them flex through the fabric before returning to the task of getting the clothes off the top half of his body.

He kisses up the side of your jaw and takes the lobe of your ear into his mouth, grazing his teeth over the skin. You push the shirt off of his shoulders and giggle a little bit because under this second layer is an under shirt. “You bundling up against the 31.6 C weather?”

You laugh some more as he pulls the undershirt from the waistband of his pants and up over his head. An appreciative noise humming from between your lips as your hands finally run over smooth skin and rippling muscles.

Your eyes are drawn to a massive scar on his abdomen. It is a raised star shaped thing, that looks like there should be no way he is walking around being the crazy ball of energy that he is. Your fingers fun over the shiny raised flesh, and your eyes flicker to his.

“I’ll tell you later.” He mumbles against the flesh of your shoulder, that is exposed by the wide neck of your scrub top, and you suddenly can not get it off fast enough. Once it has been removed, he is sucking and biting at the skin of your collarbone, fingers pinching and rolling one of your nipples through the thin lace of your bra.

You arc against him again as you simultaneously shimmy out of your pants to reveal simple cotton panties. He kisses down your stomach and nips his way across the waistband of your underwear. He is on his knees in front of you as you recline on the bed.

He presses soft kisses to the insides of your thighs. He rubs you through the fabric, and watches as your jaw slackens, and you groan deeply. “Please.” You breathe out, trying to stay quiet as you don’t want to disturb any patients that may be in the rooms around you.

“As you wish Doll face.” He smirks at you, yanking your panties down and diving tongue first into your pussy. He starts out taking great mouthfuls of you, and slowly narrows his focus to your clit. He scrapes his teeth gently over your sensitive bud, and you have to bite your lip and cover your mouth to keep from screaming for him.

When he has reduced you to a wriggling mass of muffled moans and grabby hand motions, he finally surfaces from your center, and kisses your lips again. The lingering taste of yourself on his lips only heightens your arousal.

You rub small rough circles on your clit as he relieves himself of his pants, and underwear. His erection stands proud between his thighs, and your mouth goes dry at the thick length of him.

He slips two fingers into your wet heat and curls his fingers. “You’re still sure?” He says as he continues the come-hither motion of his fingers.

“Yes.” You gasp out, unsure if that was an answer, an exclamation at him hitting just the right spot inside of you, or both. Definitely both, you decide as you nod your head enthusiastically.

He removes his hand from your dripping sex, and lines himself up at your entrance, pausing for a moment to give you chance to change your mind. When you don’t, and only wiggle your hips forward to try and get him inside of you already, he enters you slowly, inch by delicious inch.

He continues until he is sheathed completely inside of you, and then he stills once more. “Yuu!” you say, the pleading in your voice all that is needed to spur him on, make him pull out of you slowly, and then thrust back into your warm wetness.

He bends at the waist, and captures your lips with his, drinking down your moans like a man dying of thirst. Speeding up his thrusts, he detaches his mouth from yours, to kiss and nip at any available skin he can reach, panting and groaning loudly as he gets closer to his release.

You are so far gone by now that you can’t even bring yourself to try and silence him. You hope that the people in any neighboring rooms will just think that it is the television running. You are getting close as well.

Strings of words like “I Love you.” And just Noya’s name over and over are tumbling from your lips as you rock your hips up to meet each thrust of his. When the two of you cum, it is together, and you marvel at the synchronicity.

You don’t have long to snuggle up to him before you have to go back to your shift. Your lunch break is almost over after all. In what little time you do have, you trace your fingers over the scar on his hip while he tells you about being shot while in an active warzone.

Your heart breaks a little as he recounts being unable to save his friends dying all around him, because of the searing pain of the wound.

“Its so selfish of me.” You say softly, your face hidden in his shoulder. “So selfish for me to be glad you are here, when you lost so many people you cared for.” He shakes his head at your statement.

“It’s not selfish doll face.” He kisses the top of your head.

When you finally dress in your scrubs once more, he gives you a soft kiss on your lips before saying that he will see you soon, and you could swear that as you are leaving the room, you hear him softly say “I love you too.”

It has been two weeks since you have seen him, and you are heartbroken. You really thought that he would have shown up on any of the intervening nights since your passionate night in an empty patient room, but it appears that you are wrong.

When you are ranting about the whole thing to your co-workers, they just raise knowing eyebrows at one another. They think he was just waiting till you gave it up to disappear, but you know better.

You think about that smile, and you just know that something important has come up. That has to be the reason for his absence. You are however cursing the fact that you never at least got his home number, so that you can check on him.

It is only when you are searching through patient records to be sure that he isn’t badly injured in the hospital, that you find a clue as to where he may have gone.

You find a record from 1957 of a Nishinoya Yuu who died of sepsis from a gunshot wound her received in battle. It is ridiculous for you to think that that could be your Yuu though.

You are talking about the odd coincidence with a couple of the girls who work in radiology while waiting for a patient to be done getting their scans, so that you can walk them back to their room. It has been over a month and a half since you have heard from “The Sergeant” as you have taken to calling him in your mind.

They are talking about how haunted the hospital is from its time as a military hospital that the injured men who were fighting in a war long past were brought to. This makes you think of the strange coincidence with Noya and that record having the same name.

You wonder aloud if they may be related, though he had never mentioned being a Jr, or a third.

The radiology girls stare at you, mouths agape. “What did you say that your young man looked like?” one of them asks, and you can’t figure out where she is going with this.

You describe his short solidly built stature, his spikey brown hair with that adorable tuft of blonde at the front. And his beautiful eyes that sparkled with the energy that had him bouncing off the walls all the time.

You mention the few times that they were in the cafeteria while you had your meal or a coffee with the man. You do not tell them about his fear of moths though. That is one betrayal of trust you would never allow yourself to make, even after months with no sign of him.

After you finish, they are staring at you once more, jaws dropped halfway to the floor.

“What are you all looking at like that?” you ask, confusion written all over your face.

“You just described, to a T, one of the ghosts that supposedly haunts this place.” The boldest of the girls states outright. You snort in derision. There is no way that could possibly be true.

However, as the girls piece together the story of a soldier who was shot in battle, his friends dying all around him, but he survived to come home. When he came home though, he went to the home of his steady girlfriend, only to find that while he had been gone, fighting for his country, she had married another man.

His heart was broken, and he stopped taking proper care of himself, including the gunshot wound. Infection had set in, and he had been found, shivering from fever, on the floor of a dirty bar bathroom. By the time he had been taken to the hospital, it was too late for them to save him, and he had died, alone in his hospital bed, crying out for his love.

“They say he wanders the halls, just looking and waiting for someone who will love him, so that he can move on.”

Tears are filling your eyes as, while you don’t 100% believe this story, too much of it fits. “Have I been literally ghosted?” you wonder to yourself as you thank the radiology girls for the story and wheel your patient back to their ward.

That night, you go and sit in the room where the two of you had made love, and you think back over your short time with the man.

There are so many things that make infinitely more sense when you think about it with this new lens.

You had only ever met up at the hospital, his fascination with your cell phone, the fact that he only ever picked at the muffins he picked up.

How about that weird electrical current you felt every time he touched your skin, or how cold he was to the touch? The way no one seemed to hear when he would burst out in that uproarious laughter of his, and, your cheeks heat at the thought, no one seemed to hear his vociferous moans either.

You decide then and there to get to the bottom of all of this.

After another few weeks of internet searches, phone calls to friends in the military, and a deep dive into the news archives at the library, you find that there is only one Nushinoya Yuu.

Now you are standing in front of a gravestone, marked with his name, and the year 1957 in the spot where the death date goes. You had found a picture of the man in an old newspaper, along with an article about his return due to his injury.

“I suppose you’ve moved on to someplace better.” You say softly, the bouquet of flowers in your hand trembling as you attempt to hold back your tears.

You think you feel the ghostly touch of a hand down your cheekbone, but you know it is just the wind.

You lay the flowers on the headstone, and softly whisper, “I love you.” As you turn and walk away.

**Author's Note:**

> I realize that IRL a nurse *SHOULDN'T* go through patient records for personal reasons but I needed to do it for plot damnit!


End file.
